POETRY CORNER: THREE NIFTY POEMS

Here's three readings of poems that I think you'll like. The first is a Paul McCartney poem, "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" (above).  Of course that was a Beatles song, but Paul wants it to be remembered as a poem as well as a song, and for good reason...it sounds good to the ear, even when it's spoken.

John Lenon hated this song, which he regarded as one of Paul's "granny" poems. He called it "fruity." I disagree. Paul was fascinated with the English ability to abstract macabre crimes and make them seem somehow cute. The English are a sentimental people, and Paul thought that was worth noting in a song and a poem. He was right.

Anyway, give a listen and try to regard the lyrics as poetry. Here's (below) a print version of the opening:

Hmmmm. The lyrics are written out in a way that makes the cadence hard to decipher if you don't know the melody. I'd have written them the way they're sung, like this:

Joan was quizzical; studied pataphysical
Sci-ence in the home.
Late nights all a-lone with a test tube; Oh,
Oh, oh, oh.



Here's (above) a reading of W. H. Auden's "Stop All the Clocks." Auden dispenses with overt poetic flourish (or wants us to think he does) and speaks plainly and sincerely about the death of a friend. It's very touching.




Here's (above) a dramatic reading of a real breakup letter.  It's poetry of a sort, though you only think of it that way when you hear it read the proper way, as it is here. This would be a hit at a poetry reading!



Above, an unannounced bonus!

REVIEW OF "BRIGHT STAR"

That's a musical number above, from the film "Bright Star" which was well reviewed when it came out in 2009, but which was afterward completely forgotten. I'll have more to say about the music in a minute.

The film's about my favorite poet of the Romantic Era, John Keats, and his never consummated love for Fanny Brawne. Reviewers liked the film, though some thought it was weak on story and was only saved by the performances. Some lamented that it never touched very seriously on Keats' poetry. They're right on both counts...well, half right...but if you liked films like "Shakespeare in Love," then you have to see it nevertheless.

I like a good love story, not only because I believe in the philosophy that underpins romantic love (discussed in previous posts), but because when these stories are done right they stimulate your thinking about everything else. To be in love is to live in a state of hyper awareness, when even the cracks in the sidewalk seem to have deep meaning. It's nice to be reminded of a time when we were fully alive, no matter how torturous it might have been in some respects.



To get back to the film's music: The top video is from the film and is a vocal adaption of Mozart's Serenade in B Flat, K361.  For comparison, here's (immediately above) an original, instrumental version of the same music. The vocal version stands up pretty well, I think.

In the film Fanny tells Keats that she doesn't like poetry because she can never understand what poems mean. Keats gives a great answer, one which applies to visual art (examples by Van Gogh above) as well as poetry: 

"The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake...to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not 'work the lake out.' It is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery."


Woooow! Well said! I think of what Keats said when I look at drawings by Van Gogh. No doubt they're about the beauty of the natural world, but they're also about the power of lines and the awesome human mind that can manipulate them so expressively. To borrow from Keats: you luxuriate in the lines...in the sensation of the flow of them, and of the dynamic spaces between them. 

THE POET (PART II)

GLURG! GLURG! GLURG! GLURG!

"I'm JOYFULLY INSANE...insane with...with..."

GLURGGLURGGLURGGLURGGLURG!!!!!

"...INSANE with KISSING your TENDER FEET!"

Yes, the TENDER FEET are REALLY NEAT!!!!"

"DONE!"

"Whew!"

"Now for my reward! I think I've earned a little nip!"

NOTE: This is an alteredversion of what I assume is a famous poem but I don't have the name at hand.

MILD POETRY READING

I'll be gone for a few days. I'm not sure when I'll be back...maybe as soon as Friday. See you then!

GWEETINGTH, POETRY LOVERTH! (#5)

WARNING: THIS IS A READING OF POETRY BY JOHN MILTON BUT IT'S NOT FOR LITTLE KIDS, AND IT'S NOT EXACTLY OFFICE SAFE!




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OK, this is an experiment! To get the effect YOU HAVE TO PLAY BOTH VIDEOS AT THE SAME TIME! You also have to keep both clearly in the frame where you can see them!

Start the top video (the color one) first. Let it play for exactly 30 seconds, then turn on the bottom one (the black and white one). The top video should be louder than the other.

That's it! Boy, I hope this works!


BTW, many thanks to the inventer of this technique, Mike Fontanelli!

GREETINGTH, POETRY LOVERTH!

This poem of Longfellow's is one of the funniest I know, rivaling even "Jabberwocky." One of these days I hope I'll get a chance to animate it.

It was taken very seriously in it's day. Towns were named for it as were high schools, an aircraft carrier, a TV space ship, a corporation, a bath mat, and shipping fodder. There's even a book called "Excelsior, You Fathead," which is my very favorite name for a book. If you're not familiar with this poem , then read on. Excelsior!

POETRY CORNER

Here's (above) Sylvia Plath's "Daddy," read by Plath. I like this poem, but it seems self-indulgent and even crazy to me. Boy, Sylvia could certainly can hold a grudge. What could her father have done to her to make her write a poem like this? My guess is...not much. It's possible that he had a mentally disturbed daughter who was willing to throw his reputation under the bus in order to establish her own reputation.

Anyway, love it or hate it, you have to admit that it represents an interesting extreme of revenge literature. The unrelenting, venemous intensity reminds me of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe?" and the several pages long curse in the Bible aimed at anyone who touches the Arc of the Covenant.





Here's (above) Allen Ginsberg reading "America." I confess to liking this poem even though I completely disagree with the content. Walt Whitman popularized this kind of rambling, sloppy, stream-of-consciousness dialogue where the poet argues with an abstraction. Like Whitman, Ginsberg is often silly and easy to parody but you have to admit that it's appealing on some level.





Here's (above) Jack Kerouac reading one of his poems on the old "Tonight Show" with Steve Allen. Kerouac comes off as immensely sincere and the poem is an interesting, example of word music, at least when Jack reads it.

POETRY CORNER AGAIN!

Here's a poem I liked when I was a kid. It's the poem that used to be on the inside of the box of the boardgame, "Clue."

What amazes me about those old boardgames is how successful they were in creating a mood and an identification with the characters. Haunted house and crime games actually gave me a creepy thrill. I thought the games were assembled in real haunted houses which had to be vacated before dark. A Yogi Bear game actually made me feel that somehow Yogi existed and was pleased to know that I was playing his game.

I missed the golden age of board games, which I think was in the 30s and 40s, but I can get a sense of them from museums and antique stores. They were designed to create a whole world when the box was opened. The graphics on the inside of the heavy lid, the weird proportions and textures of the trays, even the weight of the playing pieces was somehow important. A lot of thought seemed to go into giving the user a sensual rush on opening the box.

I saw a 30s Mickey Mouse cel painting kit behind glass in an exhibit on Wilshire. You won't believe this but the inside of the box actually conveyed the real atmosphere you'd encounter in an animation studio. In fact it was BETTER than the real atmosphere! How did they do that!?
Anyway, I'm running out of space. Here's the poem that gave me shivers when I was a kid:

ALL IN THE GAME
by Suzanne Weaver